The Prince of Greenwood
by enderrushi
Summary: Battles, Weddings and The Words Of A King are easy to come by. Sleep, a Prince finds, is not. Sent to Rivendell by his Arda, Thranduil finds more commotion than he bargained for...In the form of a relentless She-Elf who thinks she can beat him. Again. ..This should be fun. Thranduil, Elves, a lotta fighting and Prince-ly duties. What more could you want? Please read and review!


**Set during the days when Thranduil was _just_ the Prince of Mirkwood but, as it turns out, he's not so free as the 'just' suggests. Teenage Thranduil yay! I always thought he'd be a sarcastic lil shit during his young'un days, kickin' ass and fightin' orcs...He was always a bamf, no matter the age.**

 **He was never much interested in the ladehs though... I wrote this a long while ago for funsies and I doubt I'll continue with it but I thought I might as well upload it. Writing fighting scenes was freaking _SWEET._ **

**Enjoy!**

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Her hair was snow-white, but her eyes were dark.

Her mouth was a pale rouge, shapely and naturally curved upward at the corners. She was slim but rather short for an Elf. _Petite you could call her,_ thought Thranduil, _but she's strong_. _She was born for battle; she moves like a cat; fast, agile and balanced, always poised, always ready for action. She may have the size of a mouse but her courage is that of a lion. Admirable really, for a She-Elf, an Elf maiden, particularly for one of royal blood, to choose so evidently a life of constant threats, tests and trials. To be envied by both the men and the women._ But Enelya seemed to be oblivious to any negative or disdainful colouring regarding her name or person. That was what Thranduil respected most about her: her entire lack of propriety. It made for many amusing situations, not especially for Enelya, but almost certainly for Thranduil who often had the pleasure of spectating.

What the Elven Princeling had the gratification of _spectating_ at that present moment however, was not one of these occasions. He was outside in the Elven Guard training 'courtyard' of such, Enelya as of that moment was engaged in a fairly one-sided battle against Candir, one of Lord Elrond's Guardsmen. Thranduil and seventy others from The Woodland Realm were staying in Imladris for a fortnight to attend an important marriage ceremony, (Thranduil was representing the King Oropher in his stead, by honouring the marriage with all of Mirkwood's approval. Thranduil did not remember whose marriage it was exactly as the subject bored him immensely) but as of such, entertainment had to be found for the Elves of Imladris and Mirkwood alike whilst preparations were still taking place. Thus the Elves were undergoing a series of duels - the eventual winner would get the honour of walking the Bride of a particular famous beauty down the aisle. Why, exactly Enelya was partaking, Thranduil remained blissfully ignorant but she was successfully eliminating Candir from one of the many possible and eager candidates.

Both Candir and Enelya fought with blunted Elven swords, forged here in Rivendell but Enelya had lost her own sword. She still remained upright however, teasing Candir into lowering his defences. She whirled from side to side, striking imaginary blows at Candir's armour (he was the only one donned in full apparel) whilst he batted her hands and fists away with the flat blade of his sword. All it took was one of the men surrounding the two (as the duo were encircled by a thinning crowd of spectators and guardsmen) to sing a jest to Candir and he lost focus. His swordarm wavered, his eyes darted away from Enelya and she acted swiftly. Springing lightly forward onto her toes, she planted a foot on Candir's knee, pushed upwards and kicked Candir's blade up to his face, slapping him between the eyes. Enelya swung her body forward, a firm grip on Candir's shoulders and vaulted into the air over his head, flipping so she clung to Candir's back. She ripped the blade from his grip, leapt from him and twisted in mid-air. As she returned upright she planted both feet on his back and pushed with all her body-weight. Candir fell forcefully to his knees and his face met the earth. Enelya landed lightly, one knee upon the ground, both arms ahead of her. She stood and pointed the enemy sword at the "slain" Candir; he lay groaning. Most likely from embarrassment.

"So," she said, glancing up and grinning, "Shall I carry this great honour of offering my arm to the beautiful and _sumptuous_ Írdis or do I have a challenger?"

Enelya's eyes flitted momentarily to meet Thranduil's. She looked wicked. He knew she was asking him, daring him to step forward. As the Prince and Representative of The Woodland Realm, it would unimpressive if he were to refuse or to accept and then be defeated. To _lose._ But there was no possibility that could happen. Enelya was talented yes, but Thranduil was _born_ to have a sword in his hand, to lead. Fighting in battle was Thranduil's purpose, his nature, his passion and (he suspected) his only love in the world. It felt natural to wield a blade, it was part of him, a sword felt like an extension of his right arm. He was only in his boots and tunic, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his longsword and dagger at his hip. He rested against a pillar on the balcony overseeing the yard, his lean figure outstretched and pale golden hair tied in a loose braid. He'd only meant to look in on how the guard were doing - expressing an interest in his subjects was an apparent necessity in a ruler (in his father's eyes) but once he'd seen Enelya volunteer, he'd been intrigued. She was always searching for trouble and Thranduil loved to be there when she got caught.

Many of the Elves surrounding Enelya were calling out to her but she was yet to meet anyone. She looked up at him again, an evil smile curling to her eyes. Herself, she looked no worse-for-wear aside from a flush dancing over her cheekbones and a smudge of dirt on her cheek that she made no effort to wipe away. Her ghostly hair was down over her shoulders, entwined into braids and curls and plaits. It blew in a gentle breeze, or more, the breeze breathed through it, whipping stray strands into her face and around her head, as though it were waving to him. Beckoning...Tempting... _Go on,_ it whispered... _Fight me!_

Thranduil sighed pointedly. He was fairly tired with the day's happenings, he had only meant to observe shortly and then retire to his chambers. To sleep. In peace. Hopefully if he beat Enelya painfully into the dirt, she'd cease to be an annoyance. At least for a little while. Another sigh escaped his parted mouth and fluttered into his hair. He may as well, it would be worth reminding his fellow peers and underlings the skill of their future King. He supposed. It sounded like something Arda would have told him, _"A King must always remind those who follow him of his strength, speed, truth and skill...Those who lead that fail to spark fear, shalt not lead for very long..."_

"No one?" Enelya goaded, ignoring the blatant roaring crowd of Elves immediately to her left laughing and outcrying that they were perfectly willing to challenge her. Enelya's gaze was solely fixed on Thranduil. If only he'd gone straight to bed...

He met her gaze and cocked an eyebrow. She grinned, eyes shining. Thranduil's eyes gleamed.

"Very well." he said, stirring from his lounging position and standing upright. "I challenge you, Enelya." At his announcement, many of the Elves turned, silent, to stare at him. Some were unaware that Prince Thranduil were amongst them, watching the fight. Others gave encouraging cheers but sudden laughter and jeers errupted behind Enelya.

"..Good luck _now Enelya!_ "

"...Won't be so eager to lose your sword _now_ , will you?"

"...Nice try, my lady.."

 _"...Go on Enelya!"_

But Enelya laughed with them, excitedly flipping her blade through her fingers. Thranduil strode forward, unbuckling his sword belt to give to his personal guard, Amathanar. He took it from Thranduil, bowing his head with a "Your Grace." Thranduil drew his longsword from its sheath on his belt and turned to face Enelya. He glanced at his sword, then returned it to Amathanar and accepted a blunted blade, a practice sword from a nearby elf. Thranduil entered the circle and Elves enclosed him in it. He could feel his blood pumping fiercely beneath his skin. Despite himself, he was eager. No matter what the fight, Thranduil was always avid for battle and he had a fair premonition that this skirmish was to be particularly satisfying.

Enelya greeted him in the circle with a little bow, "My prince," she grinned from ear-to-ear, eyes brimming with mischief.

"Let it be known, I have no intention of stealing the honour from any Elf here today. I fight Enelya simply because I fear I would never attain any peace should I have refused her open invitation." Fair laughter rang through the crowd. "Are you ready, fair maiden?" he uttered under his breath to Enelya, as he adopted a particular stance, holding his sword deflected to the side. Sometimes defence worked best.

Enelya's eyes narrowed, "Are _you_ , my prince? We don't want to besmirch the honour and bravery of those belonging to the Woodlands, do we? Or shall I teach you how we fight in _IM-LAD-RIS_?" The latter she shouted aloud, which was warmly greeted with a welcoming cheer. She shifted one foot forward and held her sword aloft, above her head.

Thranduil had to laugh at that. "By all means, my lady. _Teach me._ "

With a smirk Enelya launched forward into an attack. She swung her blade left then right, each hit deflected by Thranduil. They began a dance so complicated a few of the surrounding Elves retreated a trickle of steps. Someone began laughing a terribly low rumble. Thranduil slashed his sword to Enelya's head with quick precision, Enelya barely stopped the blow and backpeddled her offensive attack furiously, creating more distance between them both. Thranduil had to admit, her immediate ferocity and speed of attack was stunning; she was fast - very fast. But Thranduil was _faster._ And more precise, he reached his target every time, whether it be a limb, face or finger, his blunted blade tapped every area he meant it to. Where Enelya was fast and enthusiastic, she lacked accuracy. Her parries were too clumsy, her offense too wild and in this wildfire she lost expression. Enelya began to press an offense once more, intending to drive Thranduil back, her mouth was gritted and her eyes slitted in focus but glee written on every feature. Thranduil flung his swordarm out to meet her own, their swords met in mid-air. Enelya disengaged with a flourish, gathered all her might and speed, thrust and then reposted as Thranduil parried, dancing away. The two struggled back and forth, blonde and white hair flying each time they flew apart. Their swords connected again but Thranduil disengaged the collision and attacked, swinging at Enelya's head but for the first time, he missed. Instead, she ducked under the blunted edge and began an interconnected series of attacks that -unfortunately for Enelya- Thranduil had seen before. He therefore dodged and parried every one of them.

Thranduil could see Enelya was succumbing to weariness. He drew closer to her, engaging in what was to be their finale, whether or not Enelya knew it; their bodies were linked and separated by the flashing blades. At times they almost touched, taut skin a mere hair's breadth away, but then momentum would whirl them apart again. They would withdraw for a second, only to join again. In the becoming moonlight, their sinuous forms wove together like twisting columns of wind-blown smoke.

Thranduil was becoming bored and aware of the sudden attention of other Elves appearing behind him. He suddenly longed for the privacy of his chambers. Fortunately, Enelya showed a penetrable weakness in her armour of misguided attacks. Really, she was better without a sword, then she was free to move with her body and not confined to a particular stance. Thranduil drove forward quickly, footwork immaculate and with a flourish and a flash of steel, Enelya's sword flew from her grasp. At the same moment he thought he heard a gasp of pain but when he looked at her face, only annoyance glimmered there. Annoyance blurred bizarrely with gleeful satisfaction. Thranduil held her under the tip of his swordpoint as she breathed heavily. He was hardly even flustered.

"I win." he spoke loudly to be heard over the tumultuous applause, cheers and groans that erupted. He lowered his sword, fixed it into the earth and turned away. Amathanar was immediately at his side, handing him his swordbelt and offering a line of congratulatory praise. At least father will hear, he thought, at least one good thing will come out of this.

The circle of Guardsmen and people who had come to watch descended on Enelya as Thranduil fastened his belt around his hips. He turned and spoke quickly with his peers and a few members of Elrond's council, who had apparently appeared once they heard of the commotion, and after declining a goblet of wine in the dining hall, he asked them to inform Lord Elrond that he would be retiring, most gratefully to bed.

"Why don't you stay, Amathanar? I can find my way to my chambers, and it looks as though there might be a little party gathering." Thranduil said to his guard, and indeed a great flux of people had suddenly emerged from Rivendell's main keep and were now playing music whilst a table of food was being set up on the grass.

"If you wish, Your Grace. I shall wake you at dawn tomorrow, as you wish." Amathanar bowed his head and smiled graciously before turning and departing. Thranduil glanced back at the party before setting off inside, glad to be away from all the noise, in the cool air of Rivendell's halls.

Now, to sleep _...finally._

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 ** _Please review if you liked it! ^_^_**


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